


Clean Shaven

by Olliekoi



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Angry Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-17 14:06:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olliekoi/pseuds/Olliekoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six has a way of pushing Five's buttons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Five's POV

I remembered waking with a chill that morning. It was odd, considering I slept with such a heavy blanket each night. Without bothering to open my eyes, I thought. Why am I so cold? Why is this such a big deal? Why can’t I remember such simple things?

The first thing that managed to float up in my mind was that I was not sleeping alone. Someone was with me. The previous night there had been an awful argument and I couldn’t exactly remember how it had been resolved. My mind chose that unfortunate moment to switch back to the present. I felt my throat begin to burn, and I did not exactly /want/ to remember what had been done.

I then made the simple choice to determine who exactly I was with. I did not have time to do much thinking however, because in a matter of seconds I felt a warm chest pressed against my bare stomach and feathery hair tickle my nose. I then dreaded opening my eyes to the sight of /him/ lying against me. Sure enough, there he was. Sound asleep with the blanket kicked off the end of the bed.

I raised a hand to push him away, but something stopped me. It wasn’t a physical force; my hand just froze, my arm locking with it. I wasn’t sure in the least what made me stop. Maybe it was his gentle face, or lips pouted ever so slightly as he slept. Whatever it might have been, it made my throat clench, my hearts pound painfully inside me, and my hand come to rest softly on his face. And as much as I thought, ‘I hate this stupid git’, I couldn’t stop myself from smiling and curling close to him. I remembered the event that had taken place last night, moments later.

There I was, holding handfuls of his curly golden hair of his, and not even remembering what got me so angry at him. The raw want and need have done that to me but truthfully, I was too blinded by silly infatuation to care for reasons why.

“Come on now Patches. Scream for me.” I hissed, tugging up harder on the strands of hair locked firmly in my fingers. “I said SCREAM.”

His mouth dropped open and his eyes screwed shut, a loud shout rising from deep inside him. He began to attempt to fidget from my grasp, so I tugged up and brought him to his feet, watching his legs weaken while a whimper escaped from his mouth.

“Stand up.” I demanded, thrusting him back against the wall with a slam. His expression crumpled and I let my eyes wander down him, his chest rising and falling under layers of clothing. He looked strained, more so than usual. The helplessness emanating from him made me want more, so much more of him. I let go of him, glaring at him to assure he did not move. In a matter of seconds I was on the floor, pinching my thighs together and grunting. He knew that this was driving me crazy as much as it was for him.

I didn’t waste any time after calming myself down briefly. I kept on my knees, thighs remaining together as I let my gaze rest on the alarming protrusion in his trousers. My hands fumbled clumsily with the buckle, more so because he would not cease his trembling. I couldn’t exactly blame him; I was as excited as he. His pants came down with his trousers and I could hear him make a noise similar to a choke.

“Just to make it clear to you-“I was even surprised at the raspy tone to my voice. “This will be the /last/ time this ever happens.” To be honest I even knew that was a lie. We had been over this so many times. Argue, yank and pull at each other’s hair, one grovels while the other has his way. It’d happened so many times but I loved every second of him. I would never tire of the way he writhed in my touch exclusively. How he would latch onto my shoulders and cry out for only my ears. He was my treasure and there was no way there would be a last time.

“Whatever you say, Princess.” His voice came wafting down and I simply glared down at the floor in silence, letting him sit neglected.

I couldn’t help myself after I counted a full minute in my mind. I took the head, his aching head into my mouth and felt every point of my body prickle in fiery trails. He seized up and I took him further, feeling every pulse he made in clear detail. I took a sharp breath in through my nose and took him deeper; going so slow I could almost feel the suspense building within him. He reached up, latching onto my hair as I had done for him. It was for balance. He had a nasty habit of buckling at the knees and tumbling over, bringing me with him. We had a good laugh at the time but I was in no mood for a laugh right now. I let myself give a bob, slower than the last and heard another shriek pour out of him.

As fast as I could breathe, I found myself coming in my trousers and nearly released him from my mouth, beginning to shake just a bit. There was no way I was letting him know I came first, though chances were he already knew.

It was only a moment later when I bit down on him that it came forth, and I gazed up at him, bleary eyed and in awe at how gorgeous he looked when he was spent. I had never seen a sight so beautiful and it made my stomach tighten as I pulled back, tilting my head and swallowing without a thought. I crossed my legs and rested my hands in my lap, flushing and feeling silly in the position I was in. He was busy pulling his pants and trousers up while I sat feeling like a naughty school boy.

“Looks like someone needs to change himself. Would you like some help with that young man?” the sense of power over him had slipped from my body as fast as it has arrived. I didn’t answer him, though. There was not a chance in the world I was letting him have this over my head.

“Go lie down. You look like you’re about to tear yourself from your clothing.” I muttered, scooting so I was facing away from him while I stood. He wasn’t wrong; I was beginning to feel sticky and uncomfortable.

In the end, I chose not to change. I was under the blankets stark nude with him in no time. And judging by the smug look on his face, he knew that was exactly what I was going to do.


	2. Chapter 2

“Morning, Goldilocks.” Of course if there was anything he would have woken to, it was that. I hadn’t any clue of where that came from, but I thought it suited him. I had been trying for ages to find a proper nickname for him and none seemed to get a better response out of him, though, than ‘Patches.’

“It’s too early for your smart mouth.” The statement rose from him in a grunt, but still he moved himself close to me. His head was nestled into my breast bone and there was nothing I could do but wrap my arm around him.

“I trust I had you out like a light?” I asked, feeling more proud than I should have. I could tell by his shift under my arm that he was nothing if not embarrassed about the truth in the reality of my words.

“Quite. You’ve cooled down then?” I’d forgotten momentarily that I had ever been cross with him in the first place. Why was that again? I scrunched my nose in thought and frustration at not being able to recall my reasoning. It wasn’t like me not to have one. No, if anything that was more him. Prone to his silly mood swings.

“Yes I suppose.” I cleared my throat, unsure of exactly how to ask ‘Darling, why exactly was I pinning you against your will this previous night?’ “Might I ask-“

“Run a hand over your face.” He yawned, smiling against my skin. Run a hand over my face? What was that going to help? Still I did as he said, my expression dropping afterwards. I had not shaved. Finally it made sense to me. The final pieces of the puzzle clicked into place in my mind. I remembered every detail.

I had lost my razor. I get terribly moody when I’m not clean shaven. I feel like I don’t look my best. And often when I get worked up over something the details erase themselves from my mind. When he’d arrived back to the TARDIS I might have been irritated enough that anything small that he said might have sent me off, condemning him mercilessly. Suddenly I felt my stomach turn and held him a bit closer.

“Right. Thank you.” It wasn’t often you found someone who forgave you after something like that happens. But he understood the way I thought like no one ever would. And although it was painfully obvious why he did, I had never loved another being quite like I loved him. “And I am sorry.”

“There’s no need for an apology. I cannot exactly complain, I rather enjoyed it.” I wasn’t sure if I should take that as a compliment or a gloat, but still I vaguely appreciated it. “Princess?” his voice rose again.

“Yes?” by the tone in his voice I could tell he was either going to tease me about the night or make a sharp comment that was totally irrelevant to our current situation. Usually when he’d given an up and down toned ‘Princess’, he was addressing me in a mocking way. How I got the nickname I would never like to think about again, but it was demeaning and embarrassing and he simply /loved/ calling me it.

“I love you.” His grip tightened around me and I could tell right away that although he was not actually apologizing, something I had done had frightened him. And in a situation like this, I had taken his words as ones spoken out of fear. And as much as that stung, I’d be setting myself up for disappointment if I didn’t.

“I love you too.” Still I sighed out a response, knowing sadly that I was to be slightly more genuine than he. After all, what was I to expect from someone who has fits over too much sugar being put in his coffee?


	3. Chapter 3

After feeling overwhelmingly guilty about my earlier overreaction and thoroughly shaving, I brought myself to ask him a few questions during breakfast. Of course, being him, he would already know what I wanted to get out of the conversation and nearly had everything he wanted to say planned to the smallest point.

“First of all,” he turned to very nearly glare directly through me. “I’m not frightened of you. I am more frightened of myself as I am now.”

I ran a hand through my hair, sighing simply. I really had no right to be objecting to the sharp tone I was getting from him. 

“Secondly, I’m just cross. In the slightest.” He pinched his fingers together as an indicator and continued staring. “I did admit to enjoying it, though you had not any right to jump into it without warning.”

“Now don’t pull that with me.” I started, rising a hand in a form of defense. “You cannot say that I rushed into this without consent, when that is happening with you and I, every day. You constantly rush me either onto the wall or into the bed, whereever we are.” I snapped my jaw shut in realization. I was getting touchy when he had every reason to be cross with me.

“Smart move.” His voice sent shivers down my spine. It was the worst timing for this but the expression on his face and the forcefulness of his voice was enough to drive me insane. 

I quickly crossed my legs under the kitchen table and leaned forward. I could tell by the spark of interest on his face that he knew he had me around his finger.

“Now are we going to be interrupting again?” he said, leaning forward and wrapping his legs around one of mine. 

“No sir.” I teased, unable to mask the clear edge in my voice. His grin increased in size. “Please, I haven’t even finished my breakfast.”

“You won’t need it after I’m done with you. You deserve a proper punishment after all.” God had the topic switched. I would be lying if I said I didn’t prefer this over our previous conversation. He had a tendency to go on and on when he was aiming for total humiliation from me.

“Is that a challenge?” I asked, taking my plate and placing it on the counter an arm’s length away from me. I was preparing for a jump, a push or a command. And I gave him points for remembering my words and acting on them. Being rushed into things suddenly and without warning. Although it was partially my fault, he had an eye for noticing when I was hot and bothered over the silliest little things. He did that to me, I had noticed. Just my luck to find myself a tease. 

He pointed down at the table and there were seconds between his actions and mine, seconds that were so short I couldn’t count them. I felt him brush passed my legs in a near flurry and his absence made me groan. I was in no mood to wait now. Just talking to him for the last minute had been a pain. He knew how to make me wait too. He was rather good at it, and as much as I knew I should dislike that, it was quite the opposite. 

I did him the favor of pulling down my own trousers so that he wouldn’t have to worry about fumbling unnecessarily. Now I could tell when he meant business when it came to this. He was well prepared and usually, surprisingly kind, prior and during the act. This was one of those times, fortunately for me. This was not much of a punishment, but I had a feeling he had never really intended for it to be one.

There was no warning, after that. Not that he had laid a hand on me yet, but that was the problem. He had decided to prep himself before he started with me. He knew me enough to know that this was punishment enough. I felt my insides tighten in a quick, sharp sensation. He began to give stifled moans and I ached to turn around and do it myself. Finish him off right that second. He wouldn’t allow me, though, because every time I turned around even just a bit, he kneed me in the rear. Not exactly a proper method, but it got me to keep my back to him. I had my hand still gripped against the table, knowing that if I stood up straight that the blood would rush from my head. 

He sucked in a breath and I nearly squeaked with new found excitement and anticipation. There was a familiar pop and the sound of warping plastic followed it. 

“Be careful.” Was all he muttered before I felt my pants tugged down to my ankles and cool fingers at my entrance. I yelped and bit my lip, flushing from the neck up with embarrassment. 

He started with two fingers and I fought to writhe against his touch and fight it away. It’d become habit to fight away from touch, although I rarely wanted to. Two quickly turned into three, and I gave a dry sob that gave a heavy wrack of my ribs. I gasped for breath and he removed his fingers, leaning his head over my shoulder. 

“Ready?” he asked, leaning closer to me and giving my neck a soft kiss of assurance. I gave a vacantly dramatic sigh and he couldn’t help but laugh at my blatant impatience.   
He pushed into me so slowly I thought I would tear. I reeled my head back at the sudden pressure and whimpered, feeling silly for seeming so vulnerable. But there was no hiding the evident need in this event from my part. I was not one for taking charge with him. That was once in a blue moon and it wore me out much faster. He moved out slowly yet again and I tightened my grip on the table unwillingly. I was being neglected, untouched still. I wanted so much to reach down and pump at myself, but again he wouldn’t let me. Every time I reached downwards even slightly he made a quick thrust and pinched my hips.

So untouched I remained, aching and pulsing to myself while the penetration continued. He had sped up considerably and with each moment of movement a cuss hiss from my mouth with distaste. I was pleased to know though, that this time it was not I that finished first. Not by much but still, not first. Even though his shout I could hear the distraught lining. I had no desire to bother him about it, though. It was the last thing on my mind. 

He pulled from me, spent and I was finally able to turn around and gaze at him, bent over and gasping for breath. He was a gorgeous sight to see post-coitus. I allowed myself to smile as his gaze flickered up to me. He held a hand up suddenly as to deny me permission to embrace him or touch him in any form. Instead he kept his hand held up to me as he rushed into the bathroom. Of course it was to clean up himself, but I had a feeling he also knew that meant leaving me to clean up in the kitchen. It was the same deal every time. However, it wasn’t a bother. I had just received the most passive punishment yet in our partnership, and I was not ashamed to admit that I was feeling proud of myself.


End file.
